


Tandem

by gunslingaaahhh



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunslingaaahhh/pseuds/gunslingaaahhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, <span><a href="http://iam-space.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://iam-space.livejournal.com/"><strong>iam_space</strong></a></span> made a post about a lovely little thing called <span><a href="http://mmom.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://mmom.livejournal.com/"><strong>mmom</strong></a></span>, or the "Merry Month of <strike>May</strike> Masturbation." Basically, a jack-off fic is posted for every day in the month of May. Obviously it is still April (I don't like rules lol) but if any of you guys are interested, feel free to play! Any fandom, any anything, 31 days. You dont' have to do a fic each day, either ;) This is sort my contribution, since I realized I haven't done jack-off fic yet for this fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tandem

It's a Wednesday, a nondescript day of the week usually. This week, however, Wednesday marks the day when the case broke, the suspects were caught, and a month's worth of aggravation is over and done with. The team had celebrated in the usual fashion -- beers and steaks and a bonfire at Steve's -- and everyone had gone home. It had been close to four in the morning, of course, but who was paying attention to something like the time?

As it was, Steve couldn't sleep. When they'd finally stumbled upon the last piece of the puzzle, it was like someone had hooked him up intravenously to pure adrenaline and he'd been buzzing with it ever since. It should've worked it's way out of his system by now, what with a full belly and a good number of Longboards, his sides still aching from laughing contentedly alongside his team.

He'd been staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows play, body still thrumming with excitement. Groaning, he rolled over onto his side and stared at his alarm clock, glaring at the time. Really, he should've just forgone going to bed and just stayed up; the alarm would be going off soon, anyway. He'd declared Thursday as being a day off -- they needed it, celebration aside -- but that didn't mean he wasn't going to get up and follow his usual morning routine.

Sighing heavily, he flopped onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. His other hand, almost with a mind of it's own, began to wander around his stomach, lightly and just barely touching. It was meant to be a comforting thing, to convince his body to wind down a little; it instead had the opposite effect, and pretty soon Steve was throwing off his blankets, kicking the sheet down to the end of the bed and stripping off the thin pajama pants he'd put on not even an hour earlier. Laid bare, his hands began to explore.

~*~

Danny had still been a bit buzzed by the time he'd made it home; he'd lied and said he was fine, mostly because he didn't want to spend the night at Steve's again. He'd been there all week, since they'd only managed to sleep here and there between investigating leads in the case. Once it was wrapped up, there was no reason for him to camp out and going home seemed like a great idea.

Until he was there, of course, standing woozily in the middle of his dark shit-hole apartment. Frowning, he removed his clothes and set up the pull-out, grumbling as he crawled onto it and flopping face first into the lumpy mattress. He slowly exhaled, trying to will his body into sleep but finding that while mentally he was exhausted -- nothing new there -- physically he wasn't ready to sleep. His body was restless, he could feel the urge to get up and walk around in his legs. Determined to not leave the pull-out until a reasonable hour, Danny rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around his middle. Stubbornly, he squeezed his eyes shut and began to count back from a hundred, but to no avail. Counting sheep wasn't the solution when your brain was tired and your body wasn't, he knew this. Instead, he rolled onto his back and thumbed down his undershorts, using his feet to maneuver them down and off his legs.

Calloused fingers roamed their way up and down his abdomen, trailing the ridges of the muscles there before ghosting over his hips and moving back up again. Touching was all well and good, but Danny needed to be stimulated _mentally_ too. His brain produced various images, settling on one of a woman he'd seen while they were hunting down a suspect at the beach. She'd been just his type, lean and toned but still curvy, dark hair and bright eyes. She'd turned to leave them when they were done questioning her and revealed a large dragon tattoo that spanned the length of her back, all swirling color and stunning artwork. Licking his lips, he imagined his own hands were hers, and that he would have loved to have touched that dragon, gotten closer to it.

The image is an appealing one, and his brain runs with it. It isn't until he's got one hand firmly wrapped around his cock and the other rubbing at his chest that his brain pulls a fast one and substitutes the woman's tattoo with one of Steve's. It is an abrupt change and Danny halts his movements, eyes flying open. He's panting a little, eyes darting around like Steve is in the room with him, judging this turn of events. It's weird, definitely weird, but alone in his apartment with just his hands for company he isn't going to deny that yeah, he'd like to get intimate with Steve's tattoos also. _A little fantasizing never hurt anyone_ , he thinks, and begins moving his hands again, this time imagining the hands touching him are those of his partner.

~*~

Steve is a little more shameless in his fantasies, and has been thinking of Danny from the get-go, large hands wandering to touch everywhere and breathlessly whispering his partner's name. He reaches over to the bedside table to extract a small bottle of lubricant -- he likes the glide that stuff puts on things -- and drizzles it into his palm and over his hardened length. He throws his head back and bites at his bottom lip as he goes back to pumping, hand moving fluidly over the hot flesh. The other hand is smearing the lube all over and traveling, rubbing at heavy balls and nudging just behind. There is more lube, and pretty soon he's covered with the stuff, navel to knees.

Rolled onto his side, one hand firmly wrapped around his cock, the other hand drifts to that sensitive expanse of skin behind his balls, rubbing and pressing with his knuckles. Groaning at the contact, the fingers quest further and probe at his asshole. One slippery finger probes at the tight pucker and he gasps, Danny's name dropping from his lips over and over. He doesn't usually finger himself, it takes too long sometimes and usually all he wants is a more instant gratification, something more easily achieved when he beats off. Right now, though, he wants to take his time and so he presses that slimy, slippery digit against his hole, rubbing gently. There are soft cries making their way out of his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut, loving the way his well-lubricated fingers glide right over his tight hole. He can feel the muscle loosening up and he slides one finger in, increasing the pressure on his dick at the same time with the other hand.

He begins twisting his wrist in time with the shallow thrusts of his finger, bombarding himself with pleasure. Another finger is added, and pretty soon he can't focus enough on both tasks, abandoning his dick in favor of finger-fucking himself. On his back now, one arm caught behind a knee to angle his pelvis just right so his other hand can easily reach. Two fingers desperately piston back and forth inside, and he's angling his body this way and that, trying to get enough reach and depth. He's aiming for that sweet spot, that feel-good thing inside, and he's so close, he's just barely ghosting over it...

~*~

Eventually he has to roll over, onto his knees, and he's pretty sure that if it were daylight and someone walked by, they would see Danny's ass displayed. He doesn't care, though, has one hand braced against the back of the pull-out and the other tugging at himself almost brutally, balls swaying behind with the force and the rocking motion he's adapted. His bad knee hates it this way, but the vulnerability the position provides puts a ticklish thrill in his belly, and that only adds to it.

Thumb swiping over the head, Danny gasps into the sheets and bites down, trying to be quiet. He doesn't usually get up to it like this, tries to take care of business in the shower where the sound of the water drowns things out. Him being loud carries into every aspect of his life, and if he had a real house, without such close neighbors he most certainly wouldn't deny himself the right to yell and shout and curse and scream. Right now, though, he has to keep it in and his whole body thrums with the need to let it go.

Thrusting shallowly into the tight confines of his fist, he wonders what it would be like to have Steve do this for him, or even be behind him, the source of that erratic thrusting. The mental image makes him moan into the sheets, turning his head and gritting his teeth. Fine blonde strands fall into his eyes, sticking to his sweat-soaked forehead. Whining in the back of his throat, his other hand comes back to fiddle with his balls, cupping them and holding them tight to his body. His back hunching up, a thin cry finds its way out of his throat and into the air and orgasm begins to pool in the small of his back and make his balls swell.

~*~

The sheets are a mess, covered with drips of lubricant and semen, and Steve doesn't care. He has moved beyond just being a SEAL or the leader of a task force; truly, he has been reduced to nothing more than a sexual, wanton creature. Writhing against the mattress, muscles shivering every time his fingers rub against his prostate, Steve soundlessly calls out Danny's name. There are three fingers stuffed in there now, and knowing that Danny's cock is much thicker, much _bigger_ than that makes him ache. His own balls are swollen and fat and tight against his body, orgasm is hot in the pit of his stomach, and he can feel his muscles contracting. The tight rings clamp down on his fingers and he groans, so close but not quite there yet.

The other hand returns to his dick, pumping it furiously while the other hand forces fingers in and out. It's the kick he needed, his orgasm rolling towards him before crashing, cresting over him like a wave. Steve's back arches, Danny's name loud in his mouth as he comes, semen splattering onto his chest and belly. He rubs at his prostate furiously until it becomes too much and the fingers are removed, his body stretching out on the dirty sheets. His chest heaving, he rubs at his belly and trails his fingers through the mess there, totally unconcerned.

Blinking sleepily, Steve tugs a sheet up and over his sweat-sheened body and closes his eyes, finally ready for sleep.

~*~

He almost can't handle it anymore, is done holding back, and finally Danny lets himself tumble over the edge, orgasm hitting him like a brick wall. He tugs and tugs at his cock, wringing himself out as he rocks back and forth on his knees, muttering Steve's name over and over.

It's exhausting, he almost doesn't have the strength to roll over, but somehow he manages and gingerly stretches out his legs. The bad knee protests, as he knew it would, and he's pretty sure it'll be sore and stiff later when he's in the office. He doesn't care, he'll deal with it, will probably smile when he thinks about the reason why. It'll require some tact on his part to avoid looking at Steve, of course, but hey, he can manage.

Stretching his arms back over his head and pointing his toes, Danny yawns once, loud, before curling in on himself and finally dropping off into sleep.  



End file.
